


Cat Burglary

by Tribs



Series: No Longer in Progress Series Parts [3]
Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Burglary, Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied Mental Health Struggles, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Parental Death, Library Visit, One (1) Very Good Cat, Poker, SMI Political Maneuvering HC, Smoking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-02-04 08:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tribs/pseuds/Tribs
Summary: Pict reunites with Gav, and promptly doesn't take her suggestion of getting a job.





	1. Gav

Year 135 5E (23 years old)

* * *

 

I sat up, interrupted from my novel - a thriller, one of Papelford’s mailbox recommendations - by the scrape of the tree limb against my window. It was a soothing sound, like a metronome, and had gotten to a point of association with squirrels, raccoons, and errant house cats. 

None of those were what was responsible for the sound.

I recoiled as a set of fingers, short and pale, clamped onto the sill beyond the glass. They scrabbled for purchase, and I fumbled for the dagger I kept wedged between my mattress and the frame.

By the time I got it free he was pulling himself up and grinning, tapping his fingers like he didn’t already have my attention.

_ Wait. _

My same eyes, that sharp blue. Raggedy frame, like he was a poorly made vulture. 

_ You? _

I sat up straighter, putting the dagger aside, and watched as he pulled out something small and metallic. He gestured for me to not get up - like I was going to, anyways, for  _ him  _ \- jimmied it through and hooked the latch, flipped it loose, and tumbled in without an ounce of grace.

_ You. _

I switched mental tracks, making the change from the book’s language to Morytanian.  “What the  _ fuck  _ are you  _ doing?” _

Pict pushed himself up, straightening too-loose clothes.

_ Jo’s clothes. Probably got my address off of her, too. Of course he’d go there first, from… Wherever he’s been. _

His grin tapered off, and his eyes darted around like they were in search of some word to offer. Like he used to do, when we were kids, and a question during class slammed him out of a nap.

“Hi?”

_ “Hi? _ Eight years and you just say  _ hi?” _

“Jo hugged me before I could say anything. I didn’t get a chance to practice.”

“You  _ fucking...” _  I closed my eyes, pinched my nose, then gestured for him to come over.  “Yeah. Yeah, hug works too. Jo’s wise.  _ We thought you were fucking dead, Pict. Where the fuck did you go?” _

He plopped down on the bed, nearly upsetting the candle I’d been using for a reading light. 

And he told me.

 

* * *

 

_ Vio’d have a fit. _

“And you still don’t know why you couldn’t touch anyone?”

He shook his head, chin cradled in his palms.  “I thought it might have been a curse, or some shit like that, but I have no clue after the damn spiders.”

“And he didn’t find you down there?”

“No, haven’t seen him since.”

It was slight. A flick of his eyes, a strain around his mouth, a touch of tightness in his voice. I didn’t doubt what he’d said before, at the start of the account, that he’d been receptive to the attention; what I did was how comfortable he was with the rest of it. The fragile-looking ease he was putting on. 

I didn’t push it, but I filed the thought away for later.  “What do you plan to do? Hanging with Jo and Katrine?”

“She offered her couch. Going to take her up on it, when I’m in the area, but don’t know beyond that.”

“If you need to stay here, I’m sure we can do something with the basement. Or the toolshed? And there’s plenty of places hiring, if you need a foothold. Can help you fill out applications?”

He didn’t meet my look, eyes averted and guarded.  “Not like I can explain away that damn time gap between Nnenna and now. They’d write me off as a gutter rat, first thing.”

_ You kind of are a gutter rat. _  “You could always work for Vio for a while. I can fudge the dates, make it look like you’ve been here longer. Just put me as the contact, and I’ll vouch?”

His tongue stuck out like I’d just fed him something spoiled.  “I’d rather keep her thinking I’m fucking dead.” He rolled onto his back.  “And Viorica runs shit now? What - bookshop, the sequel?”

I snorted.  “Nah. Katrine got us set up here, but Vio took over pretty quickly. Dipped into the Exchange, bossing traders around like she did us.”

“She took ‘charity’ from  _ a gang?” _  he choked, like I’d just pulled a lobster out of his ass. 

“Won’t ever admit it, but she  _ did. _ We stayed with them for a few weeks, until they ‘found’ a house for us to hole up in.”  I pointed across the room to the swords that hung on display between my bookshelves. “A few of them chipped in some replacements for my collection, too, since I had to start over. After everything.”

He fell quiet as he looked them over.

“... Jo mentioned it.”

“Yeah.”

“Mam…?”

“No.”

Pict nodded, turning his face down again, his lips pressed together. 

We both went quiet, the wall clock ticking away the minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

“Hey.”

He looked over. I jerked a thumb towards the dresser.

“There’s a pack of cards over on that. One of Katrine’s people - Stacey, I think? - taught me poker. You want in?”

He nodded and slid off the bed, swiping his sleeve across his eyes before snagging the deck and returning.  “I don’t have anything to bet you, though.”

“You can pay me back when you get a job.”

“Assuming I lose.”

“You will.”

 

* * *

 

Several games in and ‘IOUs’ secured, we were both yawning. He stood, stretched, and helped me pick up the stray cards.

“Heading out?”

“I think so.”

“Where you planning on sleeping?”

He shrugged, running his tongue between his lips, and packed the last of the cards into the box before tossing them back to the dresser.  “I’ll find someone’s bed.”

“I see that hasn’t changed.”

“‘Til I die.”

_ Mhm. _  “Like that would stop you. Maybe Al will say ‘yes’ next time.”

He smiled and slid the window back open.  “Still don’t see how he resisted the first time. My ass is fucking ripe.”

“Fucking-ripe.”

“Exactly,”  he winked.

I watched him start to lower himself out, until he was almost out of sight.

“Hey, one last thing?”

“What?”

“Nice beard.”

A genuine, easy grin split his face, and he slipped away.

_ Get it trimmed though, damn. _


	2. Pict

Year 135 5E (27 years old)

* * *

 

I limped down the side road, eyes set on the sign for one of the shops: Layte Aubury’s Arcane Surplus.

My ass ached, my throat was raw, and my head still felt muddled with the dredges of fuzz. 

I’d found an off-duty guard deep in his cups, and willing to get deep in me. 

Hadn’t exactly been restful, but it had kept my head silent for a few hours, and I’d gotten to feel a bed.

_ Need a drink. _

I dropped my cigarette and ground it out under my heel, then pushed inside. The bell strung above the door chimed, startling the hairless cat draped across the counter. She stared at me, ears swiveled forward, before sliding back to her sphynx-like posture.

“Just a minute!”  called a voice from the back room, followed by the groan of something heavy.

“Take your time!”   _ Won’t be here long, anyways. _

I approached the counter and placed a finger against the cat’s nose, watched her ear flick, then scooped her up and started to scritch where she allowed as I browsed. 

The shop was small but clean, and neatly put together. Big sliding windows opened to the street, inviting both sunlight and window shoppers. Staves sat propped in boxes for obscene prices, among shelves with books, potions, cloth satchels, boxes of chalk, and some tools for scrying. Inert sigils in frames and bundles of incense herbs hung on the otherwise bare, round walls.

Trays filled with small runes lay under the front table’s glass counter, not dissimilar from a candy store display, next to a stern wooden sign that hung from the register:

_ Only individuals in possession of a Spellcaster’s License may purchase runes in such a sum as to exceed thirty coins. Protocol so established by Archmage Perien in the Year 71st, 5A. _

I’d heard about the license before. Nnenna had scoffed and dismissed it as some kind of political arm-wrestling. All three of Jo’s Nne-Nne always chewed the concept alive, cackling around their pipes. It apparently only had weight in a few kingdoms, but it still solidified the fact that I didn’t really have a lot of choice right now.

_ Counter’s priority. Has a lock, and it’s not one that looks like it can be wiggled open; might have to force a way around it. Staves too conspicuous, but should pick something like that up eventually. Wand, maybe.  _

_ Open slat in the ceiling lets in fresh air, can probably be pried open from the roof side.  _

_ Likely has security wards for after-hours, alarms and shit. Don’t know how to disarm anything like that. _

I gave the cat a small kiss between the ears, set her down, and turned.

_ Gav mentioned a library. _

 

* * *

 

The bell clinked as I bustled out of the storage room, wiping rune dust from my hands and adjusting my spectacle. I was only in time to see a short, long-haired man leaving, Pinky watching him from one of her sunning spots on the window sill. I sighed as I walked over and scooped her up, rubbing her behind the ears.

“Must not have had what he wanted, huh?”


	3. Papelford

I had spent the last hour kicked back at the help desk, eyes cut above a copy of the Herald, fixed on the scrawny man who was busy scaling the shelves. He’d ignored the rolling ladders, and I didn’t feel like I needed to go to the trouble of pointing their existence out. 

I figured, anyone who opted to ignore the  _ obvious  _ way up the ceiling-high shelves probably had a reason. 

And the view wasn’t bad. His hair was tied back with twine, showing off a nice neckline. The cut of his clothes weren’t made to flatter him, but the way he moved, the way his loose belt sagged, teased something lithe underneath. 

I watched as he found his way back down and approached the desk, half-lost in warm thoughts until the heavy drop of books jarred me back. I cleared my throat, pulled my feet off the counter and folded the paper over my lap, then slid forward to get a better look at his selection.

_ Both on warding spells. Doesn’t look the part of a wizard. Could definitely be a student, has the eye bags for it.  _

“Studying for a license, eh?”

He ignored me, wrestling something free from his pocket, which he dropped on top of one of the covers.  “I need these two, but won’t be back in town for a while. The coin’s all I have, if I can just pay to keep them longer.”

I eyed him as I plucked it up, running the grooves between my finger pads. 

_ Morytanian accent. Watered down, but bet it’s been enough to get you some stares towards your teeth. _  I couldn’t say I hadn’t just done the same, that engrained need to check for lupine or bloodsucking features.   _ Guess that’s at least part of why you’re ready to leave. That paranoia isn’t exactly subtle, this close to the Salve. Shame. _

I brought the coin up to the light, adjusting my glasses, and realized it was closer to a token; not legal tender. I adjusted my reading glasses and squinted, the glow from the lamp playing across the gold’s surface and highlighting features all too familiar.

A hand cradling flame on one side. An Infernal inscription winding an endless helix on the other.  

I cut my eyes back up to him.   _ Never seen him before. _  “Where did you get this?”

“Inheritance.” 

Hasty, but didn’t sound like a lie.  “Who from?”

He shrugged, dismissive.  “Old mentor back home.”

_ Curious. _  “It’s not money that’s in circulation, but I’d recommend you hold on to it.”

He took it, watching me with a guarded look, and slipped it back into his pocket. I patted the books and jotted down their call numbers on the sheet.  

“Name?”

“Pict.”

“Just Pict? P-I-C-T?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. You can mail the books back by post, wherever you end up going, so you don’t have to worry about not being back. You have two weeks, just make sure to keep that in mind for when you put them in the post.”

“Mersi.” 

He didn’t waste any time scooping up his choices, cradling them against his chest and slipping out the door with not so much as a nod. 

I sighed, kicked my feet back up, unfolded my newspaper.

And tugged at the string around my neck, pulling my own token up from my shirt to my fingers. 

_ Curious. _


	4. Pict

There was a familiar feeling about kneeling in the dark, far off the ground, getting ready to steal what I needed.

_ Not much has changed. _

I tried to push out the unwanted association in favor of the job at hand, wiggling the cheap file down between the frame and roof. I fished it around in search of the latch, then tapped it loose and pushed the skylight out of the way with a dull  _ thunk. _

I cradled the old light cantrip against my chest, hiding it from any moonlighting stragglers below, and used my free hand to empty out my bag.

_ My runes, or what’s left of them. Box of sidewalk chalk. Library books. _

I thumbed through the second book’s pages until I found my scrap-paper marker, left in the chapter labeled ‘Detection’. 

_ Alright. _

I cracked my knuckles against my knee, wiggled them, slid the white chalk out of its frayed packaging, and started on the first sigil.

 

* * *

 

Storm clouds rolled above, following through on what the overcast sky had promised earlier. I knew I didn’t have long until the rain fell and washed the sigils clean, taking my ability to see the wards along.

A paranoid amount of them centered around blocking teleportation.

They wouldn’t hinder me - the focus had probably been on protecting against other wizards, not people willing to get their hands dirty - but the binding spells scattered around might get in the way. 

The front door and lower windows had alarms going to them. I couldn’t tell if they were the audible kind, or the sort that directly notified the caster. 

_ Not that I want to trip them at all, but the first would be easier to deal with if I do. _

I’d hoped the other book would have more on disabling things, but it kept fixated on ‘ _ proper’ _ traps, like hidden wall spikes, or obscured arrows, or gas that ate your skin off. None of which were relevant to the shop.

_ Once I’m out of town, might read those parts more. Deconstruct them. Can’t do much more right now without cutting the time close. _

I stuffed my supplies back into the bag, slipped my legs down through the hatch, and dropped. 

The soft wind beneath my heel muffled my foot, and in a step I leapt to the counter, landing on all fours atop it. Strands of detected spells flickered around me, across the floor and walls like an eerie mosaic.

_ No different from the sensitive strings. Just have to avoid them. _

I ran my fingers across the glass, looking for a place where it felt workable. It needed to be thick enough that the counter wouldn’t shatter, but weak enough to- 

Something brushed my leg, and I froze.

_ “Mrrp?” _

I felt her pad up further, rubbing against my side, up to press against the front of my shoulders. I tensed to flee as she continued past, sauntering onto one of the alarm triggers. I didn’t dare to breathe, braced for the array to start sending out sparks.

It didn’t, and I exhaled as the obvious hit me.

_ If he keeps her here, he’d have them set up around her. _

The fact that I hadn’t seen that shook my confidence; now, for all I knew, I was missing something important, and I didn’t have time to go back and find my mistake. 

_ Need to move my ass anyway. _

I took two fire runes and pressed them down against the glass. Like extracting light, grinding out heat wasn’t a complex cantrip. I drew my hands back and watched the pebbles crumble, effectively boiling the section of counter. 

Liquid glass hissed as it dripped down onto the water runes in the tray below, releasing a puff of steam. 

I gently pushed the cat’s intruding face away from the hole, and set to work.

 

* * *

 

My pockets and bag bulged with the fistfulls of runes. I’d gotten a good slathering of elemental pieces, with an occupational bias for clearing out the air stock. Mind and body runes had been a stretch, and I’d had to worm my arm beneath the water tray to snag a few law runes. 

_ Should be enough runes to get me by for now. And he’s still got plenty to sell, so he’s not coming out of this too bad. _

Cat had entertained herself by rubbing her side against my head, which was both incredibly unhelpful and incredibly welcome company. 

I extracted my arm for the final time, sat up, and scritched the top of her head.   _ Friendly-assed little fucker.  _

The first droplets of rain were already drumming down, a warning to hurry up as good as any other. I got to my feet, eyeing out a free space among the now-flickering outlines, then paused. 

_ That bookshelf’s unmarked, isn’t it? _

A small debate ran through my mind, and curiosity won out. I sprang over to the shelf, and started to scan the spines.

_ Looks like basic theory shit. Healing? Can’t imagine I’ll need that. Mam’s- _  I backtracked, stamping out the twinge in my chest.   _ Our. Shop had more variety, hell, and I thought she was a tight ass. ‘Cooking with Arcanity’? Bullshit.  _

A jar on one of the lower shelves held bundles of incense, each a sizable cluster. 

I tugged at one, pulling it free, and shrieked as an ear-shattering din of metal and claxons shook the walls. The cat yowled and bolted, and I wasted no time doing the same, hopping onto a chair, the top of the shelf, up to the skylight.

_ Shit- _

_ Shit shit shit SHIT- _


	5. Pict

I was rooftops away before the shouts of guards and upset guard dogs rose behind me, and was past the southern part of the city, over the wall, and down to the orchard below before the sound really started to spread. 

I didn’t have strings to go by here - a boon for mobility, a curse for navigation - so, quickened, I had to run blind. Past the trees, out across a half grown-over road, down an embankment where giant rats hissed and nipped at me from their burrows, on, and on, and on.

The rain was thundering down in sheets by the time I squirrelled myself away into a barn loft, shivering through Jo’s coat, the bag tucked in against my chest to shield its contents. 

It landed with a dull  _ thunk _ against the straw, and I plopped down next to it, huddling my knees in close.

I tugged the boots free and stripped off my clothes, then stood back up and hung them against one of the low rafters. An afterthought had me pull my cigarette box out of the shirt pocket, and I found a dry one to light. 

I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay long - morning probably wasn’t far off - without getting my ass beaten down for trespassing, but maybe the storm would let up before then.

_ Will break out the heat cantrip again if they’re not dry before then. Not catching any damn hypothermia.  _

The straw clung to my damp feet, irritating the scars on my heels as I slipped back to where the pack was, and pulled one of the books out.

_ Bit wet, but not too bad. Will just keep them fanned open, maybe read some. _

_ I’ve rubbed one out to worse.  _

_ …  _

_ Need a drink. _


End file.
